If I Could
by Vytina
Summary: Sometimes being a hero means letting go of control.


**A/N: Another piece dedicated to the relationship between Wally West and Shayera Hol. I wish to emphasize that this is a separate entity from "I See You"...just a little something I've been sitting on for a few months now and decided to share with you all, inspired by the events of "Divided We Fall". Also, this is a romantic look on their relationship, so if you do not support this pairing, please keep your negative comments to yourself. Flames will be returned in full. Thank you in advance.**

**Title: If I Could**

**Summary: Sometimes being a hero means letting go of control.**

**Character Pairing: Wally West/The Flash x Shayera Hol**

**Rating: T for suggestive content**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events related to Justice League Unlimited. I only own the idea for this story, and that includes my concept of Shayera's native language.**

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><p>"<em>Blessed are the hearts that can bend. They shall never be broken."<em>

_~ Albert Campus_

A slow and deliberate push of finger to button, and the steady rhythm of shrill _beep_s began in a repetitive, grating mesh of sound that echoed throughout the otherwise silent room. A soft, nearly inaudible sigh escaped soft lips before a hand combed through thick auburn waves. Shayera stared at the now-illuminated screen of the heart monitor, watching the green lines lift and fall in a monotonous indication that life still existed in the figure sleeping on the bed.

He looked strange, lying there like that. She knew he was wearing pants, of course, but he still looked naked, sleeping with his shirt stripped away, chest left bared for the heart monitor to work properly. His flesh was marred by the multiple scars and burns suffered during the battle, but his face remained relatively untouched, save for a few cuts to the forehead and one particularly distinct bruise at his temple. She stood nearby, trying to see any change in his expression, but there was none to be found. It was impossible for her to know if his sleep was untroubled and peaceful, or wracked with dark memories from which she could not protect him. How sweet it would be to share J'onn's ability to enter minds and not leave unless so bidden. She could know each and every one of Wally's thoughts, and if he was indeed plagued by nightmares within the solitude of his mind, she could be there to defend him.

But she couldn't.

He looked so vulnerable, limbs unmoving and expression unnervingly calm. The bruises and cuts made him look like a victim, not the hero he really was. He looked broken…worn down. And she didn't like it. This was not right. He wasn't supposed to look like this, ever. He was a _hero_, and it was his right to walk away from any and all battles with his head held high and proud. He didn't deserve to lie limp upon a bed with his body ravaged by battle, wounds put on display like the stigmatic marks of a victim and not the honorable rewards of a warrior.

She wanted to heal each and every wound with nothing but a touch; mend his broken bones and make every wound fade away into nothing but a distant memory, so he could stand tall and strong for all to see just like he deserved. She wanted to open the ignorant eyes of those around them, make them see him for the hero he really was and not the troublesome and childish sidekick most (including her, at one point) made him out to be.

But she couldn't.

Her hand reached down, slowly brushing over the tiny electrodes taped down to his chest and frowning at their presence. They only added to the notion that he was weak, that his heart could not beat on its own without the help of machines or technology. She wanted to rip them away, tear them off his skin, and toss them away from his body. She wanted to prove these machines wrong, make them regret their presence and their purpose…as though they actually possessed the ability to feel such things as regret.

She knew they couldn't. They never would.

No...that honorable privilege belonged to her. It was only for her to feel regret. Regret for not being strong enough to protect him when it mattered. Regret for only being able to stand by and watch while he suffered for the sake of his colleagues and friends. Regret for walking away from him once before, even when he had tried to stop her, pulled her into his arms and begged her, with nothing more than a silent embrace, to stay.

Slowly, she lowered herself down to sit on the soft cotton sheets with hands folded loosely in her lap. Her head bowed as she forced down the sharp sting of tears building within her throat and eyes, swallowing back her grief with all the ridiculous pride that a warrior's life had brought upon her. Pride on which she had always relied to spare her the indignity of actually expressing her emotions. It seemed strange now to consider all the times she might have dared show emotion and taken the chance that others—Wally. Not just anyone, but Wally—would accept her in spite of it all. At the time, constructing walls around her heart had been simply another method of survival, both physically and emotionally. But now...now, she would have liked to reverse time and relive each and every one of those moments. She could have learned the warmth of a friend's embrace, the soft touch of hands wiping away her tears while a gentle voice promised comfort and acceptance even in such a weak and vulnerable state.

But...she couldn't. She couldn't do any of it. Of all her abilities as a warrior, she was not a magician. Turning back the hands of time was a power that would never lie within her reach.

Slowly, her hand moved up to his throat to bring two fingers just beneath his jaw and check his pulse. A steady beat thrummed against her fingertips, just like the machines were reporting. But they were only machines. They knew nothing more than what they were programmed to know, and what they were programmed to report. She had no use for wordless readings from a metal screen or the shrill beep of a monitored heartbeat. To feel the blood pumping through his body, to touch his skin and feel warmth in return…that was what she needed to feel. Solid, irrefutable proof that she had not lost him again.

Her hand slowly shifted away from his throat, moving up to his jaw for a moment. It was strange, so strange to see him like this without the cover of his mask. Only once or twice before had she been granted this sight, but never had she stopped to take a careful look. The pale tone of his skin contrasting with the sharp hue of his hair, a color that was remarkably akin to her own, falling in feathery strands down his neck and across his forehead…it was all so natural. This was not the face of the Flash, but Wally West. Not the face of a masked superhero, but a man of flesh and blood with a heart and a mind. A mind that turned out absurdly childish jokes and found the time to laugh and smile when others did not. A heart too big and compassionate for his own good, for such a heart could easily be broken and destroyed by cruel words and senseless actions. Yet still it beat strong and true; she could feel it beneath her touch.

This was the heart of a true warrior...a heart capable of enduring the darkness in this world because it drew in every last drop of joy and happiness that could be found and held it sacred. A heart that found the good in things even when "good" wasn't there to be found. A heart to be cherished and loved even by those who didn't deserve to love someone like him.

A single finger ran along the solid build of his jaw, tracing carefully until she had journeyed back up to his eyes. They were closed in his slumber, but she remembered the deep blue hue of these eyes as clear as any memory could be. She paused for the briefest of moments, and then her finger continued on to stroke over his brow, trailing slowly down his nose for a moment and drifting over to his cheek. Finally, her touch ventured down to his mouth.

This was wrong—perhaps it shouldn't be, but it was. It just _had_ to be wrong. What right did she have to touch him in this way, feeling out even the most innocent features of his body with the kind of touch she would bestow upon a lover? She was a traitor, an exile who had been welcomed back only with reluctant arms and had never fully regained her status as a founding member of the League. She wasn't worthy of loving anyone when she had proven she could not and should not be trusted with the heart of a lover.

But sure as she felt the rhythmic pulse of his heart beneath her hands, she knew she loved this heart. She wanted to call this heart her own just as she longed to claim the man who possessed such a forgiving and loving heart. She had no right to love him, but she did. She loved him.

She should stop, of course. She should draw back and resume the chaste duty of watchful nurse, not indulge herself on desires that were utterly denied to her damaged heart. And yet all the same, she didn't stop. She did not—_could not_ stop touching his mouth, and for better or for worse, she did not know regret or shame as her finger traced over his lips in a slow caress. She knew these lips, knew his voice, knew his words—the strange and absurd jokes, the occasionally-amusing one-liners he loved to drop at every opportune moment, the supposed "words of wisdom" that somehow actually made sense...and of course, every kind, comforting, and gentle word that he had ever offered to her. She knew them all. She loved them all.

Her hand abruptly pulled back from his lips, common sense finally regaining its proper standing at the forefront of her thoughts, and she stood up once more to adjust the monitor's settings. They didn't need to be adjusted or reset or anything of the like. She just needed something to do with her hands, lest she risk them wandering about without shame or regret.

A soft groan caught her attention, and she turned around to find those soft blue eyes slowly opening as their owner regained consciousness. He blinked for a long moment, then a weak smile upturned the corners of his mouth. "Hey, Shay..."

Shayera smiled quietly in return. Even when she was normally fiercely offended by any butchering of her name, she didn't quite dislike this particular nickname. In fact, it was almost a delight to hear it again; he hadn't called her by such a name for months. Briefly, she tried to recall the exact moment when he had first decided "Shay" was an appropriate substitute for her given name, but couldn't quite determine a precise date. Most likely, as was so often the case with him, he'd just let it fall out one day and found he liked it, and since she hadn't offered any protests, he decided he would keep using it.

"Hey," she murmured, leaning up against the wall near the bed. With some amusement, she watched as he looked down at the small monitor pads stuck to his chest, then looked back up at her with an expression that resembled a childlike pout.

"Do I really have to keep these things on?"

She bit her lower lip to avoid laughing aloud at the innocent tone and the ridiculously adorable expression on his face. "Clark just wants to keep you monitored through the night, Wally...you won't have to wear them for long."

"You're here," he pointed out while shifting awkwardly on the pillows, "Can't _you_ just be my monitor for the night?"

Her brow lifted, "And just what makes you think I intend to stay here for the rest of the night, keeping an eye on you?"

"C'mon, Shay...how can you say 'no' to a face like this?" To emphasize the point, he put on his best pout and offered her wide and innocent eyes, all combining to form an expression that was completely beneath his age and possibly even his maturity level. Some others would have called it pathetic, and perhaps at a time she would have done so. But such a time, if it had ever existed, was long-since passed, and she could only smile and shake her head.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" she sighed, leaning over to carefully peel the electrodes away. The obnoxious beep died immediately, and for her aching ears it was a great relief. For Wally, it seemed to be an equally pleasant experience, as he shifted upward in place with a content sigh and made himself more comfortable against the propped pillows.

"So they tell me." He replied with that smile of his still in place.

Shayera shook her head again, setting a hand to his shoulder with concern creasing her brow. "Lie back down, Wally...you need to sleep."

"Not tired," he answered, and she felt an unbidden thrill as he cupped her hand in his broad palm, "I'd rather stay awake with you. Besides...there's something I'd like to ask you."

She blinked, a little surprised at the request, but more than delighted to hear it. They used to have these talks more often, drifting to and from one another's rooms at various times of both day and night, then not reemerging until some odd hour of the morning. With a slight shiver, she recalled those rare but sweet occasions when one of them never left the other's room, but instead spent the night together after collapsing from exhaustion. Feeling his hand cover hers reminded her of such times, when she'd fallen asleep on the edge of his bed, then awakened to find herself sleeping beneath the covers with him, as chaste as brother and sister. But even without physical contact, it had easily been the most intimate experience she'd enjoyed in years, one that had been sorely missed.

"Alright," Shayera nodded as she lowered herself to the bed once more with her hands loosely folded together. "What is it?"

He was silent for a moment, and the uncharacteristically serious look on his face was cause for some small concern. After all, when was the last time he'd actually looked serious for longer than five minutes? "I...have you thought about whether or not you're ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"...you know...to die."

Her eyes widened, rather alarmed now. "Die? Wally, why on earth would you ask something like that?"

He shrugged, too casually and too innocently to be either one of those things. "We put our lives on the line every day out there, and a lot of the time, there isn't much of a promise that we'll be coming back in one piece...maybe not at all. I was just wondering if you think you're ready to die...you know, if the worst should happen?"

A silence fell between them, leaving her deep in muddled thoughts. Had she ever thought about it? What he said wasn't wrong at all; they faced deadly opponents on a regular basis—sometimes _too_ regular for her liking—and even when they had each other to rely on, there wasn't necessarily a guarantee that they would survive the battle. There had been plenty of close-calls over the years, and sometimes she did consider it a miracle that all seven founding members were still alive to tell the tales. Was it possible that she'd become so preoccupied in the duties of battle that she'd forgotten to consider the possibility of never coming back...alive?

Finally, she found her voice even with some difficulty. "No...I don't suppose I am." she paused, then continued, "I guess when you have the responsibilities that we have—all seven of us—it just...slips the mind."

He nodded slowly, looking as lost in his thoughts as she was. She allowed him the silence once more before daring to touch the hand lying nearby on the sheets. "And you, Wally? Are you ready to...leave?"

It was childish and absurd, of course, but she simply couldn't make herself use the word "die". She had been so close to losing him tonight, with only the strength of her grip capable of anchoring him to this life and not letting him slip away to some distant realm where she would have had no hope of ever bringing him back again. The feel of fighting for his body and mind, heart and soul, still left its mark of exhaustion upon her own body, but more deeply had it impacted her heart. A heart that might not be able to endure another blow before it shattered apart completely and could never be repaired.

"No," he answered quietly, "There's no way I'd ever be ready to leave...not when there's so much that I haven't done."

She tried to smile and bring a lighter note to the conversation. "So much that you haven't done?" she repeated with only a weak smile to offer, "Wally, you do so much for those around you...things that no other member of the League can even hope to accomplish. How can you say there is much that hasn't been done?"

He smiled briefly, nodding in agreement. "Alright..so there's plenty that I've done..." he sighed, the smile fading away with his next words, "but maybe what I mean is...there's plenty of I haven't _said_."

"Like what?"

Wally finally met her gaze, and she tasted a familiar sense of pleasure as those bright blue orbs connected with her eyes. "You know...I'd like to tell my mom that I love her, tell my brother I love him too...most of the time, anyway." Shayera pocketed a tiny smile as he continued, "I'd like to tell the kids at the orphanage to never give up hope, even when it seems useless and pointless. I would tell the guys at the P.D. that even when they don't feel like it, they're still heroes as much as anybody...that they don't need a costume and superpowers to save the day."

She couldn't keep the smile from her face. There it was again...that open heart that adored and embraced and praised everyone and everything; the heart that found light in darkness and hope in despair. The heart of a true hero.

"Is that it?" she asked softly, letting her eyes fall down to where their hands still lay on the sheets, not quite entwined but still cupped in each other's hold.

He shook his head, biting his lip ever so slightly in an odd gesture of shyness that she hadn't ever seen before. After all, "shy" was not a word she typically applied to his character, or his behavior, for that matter, "No...there's something else I have to say. Something I have to say to someone who's...really special to me."

"Oh?" she replied, trying to not look too interested when her curiosity was overwhelmingly apparent, at least to herself. "Who's that?"

"Someone...someone who's been there for me ever since I can remember." his voice was strangely soft, his eyes even more attentive upon her face than before, though not unpleasantly so. "Someone who's always there when I need an ear to listen, or when I need someone to slap my head back on straight." she narrowly bit back a small smile at that, and he must have seen it, judging by the tiny upward lift of his mouth that came as he continued on. "Someone who listens to my stupid jokes and one-liners and actually _listens_ even when she probably wants to sew my lips shut. Someone who trusts me to hold her and be with her and not take advantage of that, especially when she's crying or just feeling lonely. Someone who has been my best friend through thick and thin, always sticking with me even when things get bad."

He slowly sat up from the pillows, leaning forward slightly with a tightening grip on her hand. Her heart was pounding to beat the drum, and common sense demanded that she move away and tell him to stop talking before this got too personal. But against the desperate longing of a battered and mutilated heart, ravaged by self-inflicted sins and the consequential guilt of such actions, common sense fell unheard by ears that longed for his words. Words that had only been hers in the wild fantasies wrought by dreams.

"Someone," he whispered, looking directly into her eyes, "who grabbed my hand and refused to let me go. Someone who was strong when I was weak and tired...who begged me to come back and not give up the fight just yet. And in that moment...I realized I wasn't ready to go, Shayera. I wasn't ready to go without telling you...telling you how I feel about you."

"Wally—"

"I know you know how I feel, Shay...you _have_ to know." his voice was softer still, but there was a distinct catch of desperation as he clutched her hand, his feelings written so clearly across his face...especially in those piercing eyes. She felt her heart ache at the mere sight. "And if I'd gone without telling you how I felt...I would have left with regrets. And that's one thing I don't want to do—have regrets."

Regrets...she had more of those than she could possibly recall. So many, many regrets that the mere thought of them wracked her very core with guilt. She did not deserve to be in his presence; that much was more readily apparent to her than ever before. He was asking for her heart, wanting it as though it were some priceless treasure to be held with tenderness and adored with reverence. He was asking for her heart...and he was offering his in return. He was offering her that beautiful heart to be claimed as her own...something she could claim and do with as she pleased. Such trust and love...and she deserved none of it.

She shook her head firmly, turning away so he would not glimpse the tears slicking along her eyelids and threatening to put her weakness on full, unabashed display. "No," she whispered, "Wally...we both know this cannot happen. We were not meant to walk this road...not together."

"Why not?" the desperate plea was gone, replaced by a stronger and more determined tone that thrilled and inspired her even when greater sense was mortified to acknowledge such a reaction. He was strong when she was weak and afraid. He was resolved when she was wracked with guilt and confusion, unsure of what she wanted while yearning to claim that which was being so sweetly offered. God, if only she could share his strength. If only she was as strong in heart as she was in body and mind.

"It just...it can't." She couldn't think of a passable excuse or explanation to offer him, not when she herself wouldn't even believe it. "Wally, you know I care for you...I do and I always have. But this—"

"You care for me," he repeated softly, eyes falling down to the floor, "but you can't love me."

"That's not true!" she protested before she could fully consider the ramifications of allowing words to escape unfiltered, "It's not true, Wally, and you know it! You said yourself that you know how I feel...and you're not wrong—you're not! But it isn't as simple as you'd like to believe it is. We just...we just can't."

Silence fell briefly while she ran a hand absently through her mussed hair and eventually brought it over her eyes for a brief moment. "I learned a long time ago that when I do my job, Wally, people get hurt. People I care about and want to keep safe. And I can protect them, but only if I don't let myself get close to them...don't you understand that? If I protect them as comrades should, but nothing more, then they won't ever be hurt. But if my heart gets in the way...then I know I will hurt them—hurt _you_. I won't want to, but I will. I cannot love someone without hurting them in the process."

His hand slowly slipped around her cheek, carefully bringing it back to meet a gaze so unbearably soft and gentle, eyes filled with such understanding and compassion that she didn't deserve. How could a heart like his belong to a mortal? Surely such endless love and tenderness was meant for a higher power, not a human being, to bestow upon undeserving beings such as herself. But she wasn't worthy of it. She didn't deserve to receive it from anyone, human, alien, or god. Most especially, she didn't deserve it from _this_ human...a human who had been directly affected by her betrayal.

"But you _do_ love me...don't you?" he whispered, eyes never leaving hers while his fingers traced the soft skin and firm bone of her jaw, eventually tangling themselves within the fiery strands. Her eyes fell closed at the simple touch, savoring the feel of his hands and the nearness of his body. It was unbelievably innocent—their bodies were hardly touching—yet still sweetly sensual. The soft heat of his breath fanned against her cheek as he closed the distance between them, and the feel of it stirred the blood within her veins. Truly, even against the call of logic and reason, there was only one answer to his question.

"...I do." she finally spoke in hushed tones, unable to meet his gaze even when she wanted to see his reaction to her words. "I do...but I shouldn't."

His lips set the softest kiss to her temple, and she could feel the curve of that smile she so adored against her hair and skin. "There's plenty in this world that we should and shouldn't do, Shayera." Wally murmured, and she felt his hand engulf hers with a warm and dry palm brushing against her slender fingers. "That doesn't mean we don't do any of it...or feel any of it."

"Why must we feel it?" she protested, fighting to keep tears in their rightful place and not allow a single one to escape. It was a battle she was quickly losing. "Love should not inspire pain...why can't it just be easy?"

Wally only shook his head with a soft sigh, "I guess I always figured that if something was easy to do," he answered, kissing more firmly at her brow this time, "it really wasn't worth doing. No challenge...no struggles or obstacles to make the end result worth the while."

"How can anything be worth it when it causes pain? Especially when it's _you_?" she whispered, tilting her head away when a few tears managed to break free and slick across her cheeks. "I hurt you, Wally...I have never forgotten the pain I caused you—how _can_ I forget? You were lucky to have not been killed because of what I did...what's to stop anything like that from happening again?"

"Maybe I'm being overly optimistic," he replied quietly, still with that smile against her forehead, "But I think having you grab me and drag me back, body and all, might have some merit. Or maybe I could give you credit for coming back to me even when you didn't have to. Or maybe I'm just so taken by your beauty that I'll risk another near-death experience."

Shayera sighed heavily, "You aren't taking this seriously."

"Yes, I am." he answered, "You're making this more complicated than it needs to be."

"This _is_ complicated, Wally..." she replied with frustration lacing her tone, running a hand distractedly through her hair, "And the sooner you realize that, the better. We just...we can't act as though this isn't—"

His thumb lightly pressed to her lips, and if she intended to continue her protests, she couldn't remember why. Those eyes gazed firmly into hers, sharp blue set against green, and she wondered if he really couldn't see past every excuse and protest she feebly offered, dismissing all the fabrications for the simple truth that lay beneath it all, tucked away where she didn't have to face it and accept it as an integral part of her very soul.

But now she could see the truth reflected in his eyes, clear and bright as an evening star or the streaking tail of a comet. For the first time...the truth didn't hurt. It didn't hurt to accept it, face it...even embrace it. It should have, but it didn't.

"I love you," Wally whispered, bringing his whole hand to cradle her cheek, leaning closer until his forehead brushed hers, "and you love me. Seems pretty simple from where I'm sitting."

"Wally..."

"If you can say it," he continued softly, eyes strong and determined as he held the connection with hers, "If you can say it, Shayera...then do it. Don't be afraid anymore...please, don't be afraid to love me."

Her hands moved before she could comprehend the motion, fingers winding in his soft red hair and pressing her brow firmly to his with a low sigh. Being afraid...being weak...wasn't that what being in love was all about? Wasn't the basic, simplest meaning of love rooted in feeling fear and knowing what it meant to be weak and vulnerable both in body and heart? Was that not precisely why she had told herself that she _loved_ Hro and John, because she needed to maintain a facade of strength and resilience around them, never letting such a mask slip form her body, heart, or mind? She had let herself believe they loved her because they never had to see her weaknesses. They had never seen her cry or fall down when her body simply could not endure any more, and she hadn't necessarily been able to believe they would have picked her back up without expressing pity for her state, thinking her a damsel in need of protection or else a strong and powerful warrior who could endure every suffering. Either one extreme or the other. They had neither accepted nor comprehended the middle ground of her heart: a warrior who sometimes just needed to fall and know someone's arms would be there to catch her and hold her close, not out of pity or some diluted sense of compassion, but simple understanding that offered silent assurance that her weakness would never be taken for granted.

As she drew nearer, her eyes opening to meet his and quickly losing herself within those blue depths, a soft smile curved her lips even as she felt tears slick across her eyelids and down her cheeks. Tears...when was the last time she'd felt able to shed tears and not feel helpless and pathetic? Too long, that much was certain.

"I love you." she whispered, her heart thrumming as his eyes glowed with such simple words. "I love you, Wally...God, I love you!"

Her words fell upon one last breath before his lips laid claim to hers, kissing her deeply, desperately, frantically. Kissing her as she'd never before imagined. She hadn't ever thought it possible to taste such elation in a kiss before. To feel such an honest and open expression of his love and need for her that the sheer experience of it made her head spin until she was fully disoriented and lost in the sensations. And for the first time in her life, she felt free to return such a kiss, releasing all that she was, all that she had been, all that she could ever hope to be, and that she still had to become. All of it was poured into the kiss, into the tangle of her fingers within his soft locks, and in the tears she shed in joy and relief. She gave all of herself until there was nothing left of her heart, mind, and soul but his love for her and his faith in her.

His arms fitted around her and carefully brought her down to the sheets with his muscles pressed firmly to her curves, the strength of his body encasing her so fully that she felt warmth spread throughout her being to leave her feeling more secure than ever before. This was safe. He was safe. With him, she was safe and protected and loved, nothing less.

"I love you," she whispered into the kiss, hands sliding down to trace the muscles of his back with deliberate tenderness that had him offering soft moans in response, "I love you, _amorsa_..."

He shivered slightly under her touch, breaking the kiss only to meet her eyes with curiosity in his own. "_Amorsa_?"

Shayera smiled quietly, sliding her fingers down from his hairline to stroke his jaw. "It's from my native language." she murmured, "It's literal translation is 'my heart's mate'."

Wally smiled, kissing slowly down her neck while his hands slipped beneath her shirt and easily peeled it from her torso. "Teach me more, Shayera...teach me more of your language."

She nodded, hands running down the muscled line of his back before returning to his chest and finding the strong beat of his heart. "I will, Wally. In time, I will." Her head tilted upward to kiss him again, and her lips spoke against his. "But for now...I'll teach you one more."

Her body shifted beneath his until she was level with his chest, and her lips kissed the warm skin beneath which she felt the rhythm of his heartbeat. His heart, strong and honest and pure, now a heart she could call her own. She kissed it once more before letting her words be heard in a soft whisper, meant for his ears alone.

"_Ich amyn tu_."

This time, no translation was needed. Some things simply come with a universal understanding.


End file.
